


Nobody Promised This Would Be Easy

by aestivates



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Horse_ebooks - Freeform, M/M, POV Second Person, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2013-01-15
Packaged: 2017-11-25 14:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aestivates/pseuds/aestivates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moirallegiance, Davekat, and Horse_ebooks. At least you know what you're in for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nobody Promised This Would Be Easy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for dumafire even though they don't know me, as well as quietelegy for reasons she'll hopefully pick up on. Dedicated to everyone who wants a little more of that bright diamond shine in their OTP.
> 
> Title is, of course, from Horse_ebooks.

He finds you outside in a rarely-visited shadowy corridor, folded up between wall and floor with your knees tucked into your chest like a pathetic curled-up wiggler. You're not crying, and you're admittedly proud of yourself for that, but it's still pretty goddamn clear how vulnerable you are and you avoid eye contact, hoping he doesn't seek it out. You're not even sure how he found you. Was he looking, or (more likely) was he on one of his absentminded solo strolls seeking "inspiration" for those shitty bastardized representations of slam poetry? You have half a mind to snap at him and channel your currently astronomical amounts of self-pity into cleverly worded anger at someone who could easily take it, but you don't because you feel like if shit became the president elite of a shit-canning factory and was demoted for rolling around in said shit because it was the only thing that kept you warm at night in your sad, lonely, excrement-filled life. But you're pretty sure that opening your mouth would force your turbulent emotions to give the fuck up on their precarious self-hold and come tumbling out in the form of disgustingly trite but honest feelings vomit instead and that is the last thing you want to do at this precise moment.

You keep quiet. The light padding of his footsteps stop. You wait, subconsciously holding your breath, for him to turn around and leave. But because he's Dave Strider and chronically inept at pretty much everything except crawling into your thoughts and doing exactly what you don't want him to, a few seconds later you hear the wholly melodramatic and unnecessary swish of his cape as he sweeps it aside and settles down next to you.

You release your breath in a loud and aggravated way so he gets the point, but for all it does, you may as well have said, "Thank you. Please continue forcing me to feel as uncomfortable as possible." You say nothing, of course, but strangely enough neither does he and you both sit in what you feel is indeed a very uncomfortable situation for a very long, uncomfortable while.

"There's this thing I heard once that I thought was pretty damn accurate," he suddenly murmurs, so quietly and so close to your ear that it startles you, and you turn your head slightly, lift your eyes to his face to indicate you're listening. His directs his shaded gaze at the wall in front of the both of you. "Everything happens so much."

You stare, disbelievingly, for probably a good five seconds (and you're sure he's counting them down so he can chuckle at your reaction on cue), but then the words sort of sink in and you realize that yeah. Yeah, everything does happen so much. So fucking much.

For some reason, against all odds, you don't feel patronized or frustrated or more upset in any way. In fact, you feel better.

"Yeah," you say, affecting a grimace but it's somehow so hard to keep that up. "It really does."

He doesn't burst into laughter or deliver some kind of corny punchline but instead looks down at you with a funny half-grin, and again stays silent.

You smile back a little, just enough that he could blink and miss it, and it occurs to you very quickly that you've never felt this hideously pale for someone after a simple goofy gesture in your entire existence. It's an immensely frightening thought but eventually, you think, eventually you might be okay with it.

He drops his head on to your shoulder and you lean against him in turn and close your eyes.


End file.
